


something wicked this way comes

by theycallmesuperboy



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Has a Vagina, Demons, Established Relationship, Human Hank, I guess???, Incubus Connor (Detroit: Become Human), M/M, Minor referenced reed900, Succubi & Incubi, Supernatural Elements, Trans Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Trans Male Character, Trans Male Pregnancy, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, also i promise sumo is there im just too lazy to write him, connor was born a succubus but he’s now an incubus, incubus nines, monster fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-02-07 10:32:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21456610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theycallmesuperboy/pseuds/theycallmesuperboy
Summary: “Incubus— demons aren’t real, Connor,” Hank said, but Connor could tell that even Hank, a notorious skeptic, was beginning to doubt some parts of their relationship, thinking about all of the things that Connor had said.“Yes,” Connor said, trying to keep the deep, sultry tones from his voice as he cornered Hank. He would not let that side of him take over, not now. Something about Connor’s tone unsettled Hank, the man becoming unsteady on his feet, taking a hesitant step backward as Connor moved forward. “We are.”
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 18
Kudos: 180





	something wicked this way comes

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY SO I really wanted to write like literally anything Hankcon that wasn’t part of my Body of Thirius series and I TOLD myself I wasn’t gonna write anything involving pregnant Connor bc that would mean my only 2 fics involved that but. Here we are. I wrote this in three days. It was supposed to be like 5k. I hate writing porn and yet I do it every time. 
> 
> Also PS Connor is a transman and in the porn I refer to his genitalia with female terms so if that squicks you out maybe don’t read this? You can skip those scenes I guess but I have like lore information in there sometimes.

Connor blinked awake in the pre-dawn twilight. Though his kind were creatures of the night, he’d adjusted his own sleeping schedule to match that of the man sleeping beside him. _ Hank_. He was pressed against Connor’s back, heavy arm thrown over Connor’s chest. Connor brushed back against him, feeling Hank’s morning wood against him. He felt the spark of arousal between his own legs as he continued to brush against Hank’s clothed erection. 

With deft fingers, Connor reached down to rub between his own thighs. He pressed against his clothed clit, the member already interested even at the light press, sending a thrill through his body. Rolling the member between his fingers, his other hand slipped past the waistband of his boxers, spreading himself apart, and then sinking two fingers into himself without waiting. He arched the fingers back towards his pelvis, feeling the heat rise in him as he grew wetter, the sounds of his fingers squelching inside himself the only sounds besides Hank’s soft, unconcerned breathing. With the two fingers working himself open, he pressed his thumb back against his clit, rubbing it rhythmically. 

His other hand joined the first, feeling the wet rim of his cunt stretched around his two fingers, the sticky wetness coating both his hands and the dark hair there. In this form, he never bothered to rid himself of it, with the way humans reacted to his touch, by the time they were spreading him open they never much cared what was down there. He pulled his fingers from himself, wiping the wetness on the inside of his boxers, briefly pausing at the unusually hard lines of his own stomach. 

Connor pulled away from Hank, his back having been pressed against the sleeping man, before rolling over to see the man’s sleeping face. The human was snoring, sleeping on his side, arms cradling the blanket that Connor had pushed away. The incubi ran hotter than humans, and Connor’s skin was feverish even at the best of times. 

Hank was sleeping soundly, but Connor knew he wouldn’t be for much longer, not if Connor had anything to say about it. The other side of Connor— the side he had tried to push down and hide away from the sleeping man— called to him every night, and though he never let himself fully give in to it, he didn’t mind indulging in his desires when it was with Hank. 

But that side of him, the side that called to him _ to seduce, to take, to corrupt_, had been dormant for several weeks now. It was satiated, silent, in a way that he only ever felt immediately after fucking someone, when his overwhelming hunger was satiated. Though that part of him would never _ really _ go away— he’d never really be human again— with parts of himself always _ desiring_, they were quashed down by things he didn’t want to think about. Things far worse than the side of him he’d been avoiding for years now at Hank’s side. 

Connor reached out, his hand pressing against Hank’s shoulder, pushing the man onto his back. He could hear the human’s breath hitch as he stirred awake. Hank had never really been a heavy sleeper, having to wake at the slightest call from work, but in the three years since Connor had shared his bed, he woke at Connor’s slightest touch. 

With Hank pressed into the mattress, his eyes fluttering open, Connor threw one leg over the man to straddle him. He perched on the man’s chest, hovering over the man, a vestige of his nature. He felt a burgeoning hunger growing, something that could only be quenched by Hank, something he’d realized years ago when he’d stopped seeking out others to feed his hunger. With the inhuman parts of himself satiated, for now at least, Connor knew the desire he felt when he looked at Hank was real. It was _ human_. What little bits of him still were, at least. 

He could see when Hank gained consciousness, groaning awake. When the man’s eyes opened, Connor leaned forward to claim his mouth, kissing him greedily. Hank’s hand— still warm from sleep, lines of the mattress imprinted on his skin— snaked up through Connor’s soft hair, pulling him down so their mouths couldn’t part, even if Connor had wanted them to. When he felt Hank pulling back to breathe— _ humans_, Connor huffed— he opened his eyes to meet the blue eyes of the man below him. Hank chuckled, hand still in Connor’s hair, “Insatiable aren’t you?”

He probably expected Connor to say something teasing back, to be the usual confident, vocal Connor that he usually was, but Connor just nodded. He just wanted to drown out all of the things he knew he couldn’t avoid any longer, and the best way to do that was with sex. But as he sat back, grinding his hips against Hank’s, he knew that even that method of distraction wasn’t working its usual magic. 

Instead, Connor leaned down and channeled his desire into the wet, greedy kiss he bestowed upon Hank. He snaked his hands under Hank’s soft sleeping shirt, pushing it up over the swell of Hank’s belly. He had to lean back so that Hank could pull the shirt over his head, taking the time to toss his own shirt— Hank’s, actually— over the side of the bed. 

He felt Hank’s hand on the crest of his hip, an eyebrow raised in the soft morning light that had begun to peek from the curtains. His voice was rough from sleep, “Impatient this morning?”

“_ Hank_,” Connor said, but instead of coming off as needy, it just came off as _ tired_. 

“Okay, okay,” Hank said, and certainly would have raised his hands in a symbol of acquiescence if they weren’t on Connor’s body already. His thumb brushed one of Connor’s nipples, making the younger man’s back arch as he gasped. 

Growing more impatient, as he really had no right to be, Connor reached down into Hank’s cotton boxers, taking the man’s heavy cock into his hand. His thumb brushed over the head of Hank’s cock, the precome already wet and dripping, not unlike his own cunt. He released Hank’s erection, if just for a moment, to hook his thumbs into the waistband of his own boxers, shimmying them over his hips. 

Taking the opportunity, Hank fumbled for the nightstand, trying to pull the drawer open even at the awkward angle. Free of his clothing, Connor reached forward to wrap his hand around Hank’s wrist, stopping him. “Just grabbing a condom, Con.”

Connor shook his head, “Don’t want to use one,” he said with a shrug. Hank pulled his hand back, not questioning it. It only made Connor’s guts squirm more, feeling increasingly guilty that because of Connor’s nature, there were so many things Hank just overlooked. 

To Connor’s surprise, Hank surged up to capture his mouth, the hand on the back of his neck sealing them together. Connor moaned into it, even when Hank pulled back to laugh, throatily, “You’re a wicked thing.”

Instead of pulling Connor out of his head like he was sure Hank intended the comment to do, Connor only felt worse. It wasn’t _ really _ about the condom— they’d certainly skipped using them before, on Hank’s insistence and his own— because Connor knew that if what he suspected were true, it wouldn’t matter anyway; but about how _ sloppy _ he’d gotten. How _ careless_. Connor’s kind weren’t harmless, but the kind of damage they caused was a different kind entirely than his fellow demons, and he’d allowed himself to pretend for so long that he was anything but one of them. 

“Connor—” Hank said, his tone a hint worried, from where he’d eased himself back onto the mattress, propped up on his elbows. 

Rather than a reply, Connor reached for Hank’s cock, neglected against his stomach, his boxers still halfway up his hips. He aligned it with himself, feeling the head brush against his hole. He sank down on it fully, feeling the familiar burn of not-quite-enough preparation, wet as he was. “Connor!” Hank shouted, a different tone entirely as he spread Connor’s lips apart with his thick cock. 

Connor felt the surge of pride in him for making Hank like this, the usually in-control police lieutenant, how easily he fell to Connor’s touch. He began to move, doing most of the work, as he lifted himself off of the erect member until only the head was still buried in him, then sinking back down with no hesitation. He moved quickly, barely allowing Hank to scramble to keep up with him, the human’s hips thrusting upwards, just off from Connor’s movements, allowing for a friction that almost burned. 

“Fuck, Connor, that’s—” Hank groaned, almost breathless. 

Rather than speed up, Connor slowed, taking his time to feel the thick member filling him, brushing parts deep inside himself. He reached down between his legs as he moved slowly, fucking himself on Hank’s cock, to rub against his clit. He timed it as he worked himself on the man’s cock, his eyes closed, not to see the way Hank’s gaze nearly worshiped him.

But it seemed that he wasn’t moving fast enough for Hank, his labored breathing heavy as his hips snapped upwards, his hands back on Connor’s hips. “Hank—” Connor tried to say between gasps, to tell Hank he was on it, but Hank just ignored it, fucking into Connor. 

He batted Connor’s hand away, pressing his fingers against Connor’s clit himself like he knew Connor liked, and Connor couldn’t find it in himself to deny the man, so he focused on grinding down onto the man, hearing the wet slap every time he fully seated himself on the man. He felt the spark of arousal growing between his thighs with each thrust, with each rub of Hank’s calloused fingers. 

“Hank, I’m going to come—” Connor managed to say before his orgasm spilled over, his cunt grasping at Hank’s cock for purchase. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Hank said as Connor’s cunt clenched around him. Hank continued to thrust upwards, his hand traveling upwards to join the other on Connor’s hip. He instead pressed it to Connor’s stomach, where Hank’s cock would be deep in him, feeling it with each thrust. But Connor froze for an entirely different reason, Hank unaware as he continued to fuck Connor through the last of Connor’s orgasm. 

“I’m gonna—” Hank started, his thrusts becoming more erratic, nearly slipping from Connor’s slick hole. Unfreezing, Connor met his hips to make sure that wouldn’t happen. 

“Come in me,” Connor murmured, but he knew Hank had heard him. What more harm could be done, anyway? With one last burst of stamina, Hank continued to fuck into him, even as Connor felt the man’s come flood his channel, adding to the already-wet slick that guided Hank’s cock through the lasts of his thrusts. 

And then the room was filled with the sound of Hank’s heavy breathing, as he pulled Connor down on top of him, Hank’s quickly-softening cock still inside of him. As he laid on top of the burly human he knew the cock would soon slip from his body, Hank’s come with it. 

It was one of their quicker fucks. Connor liked to tease, to play with his food before he pounced, especially if there was some element of _ wrongness_, of _ danger_, to it, like when he visited Hank at the station and they slipped away for what passed as private at the precinct, or their first time, in Hank’s car at the bar, when Connor never thought he would see the man again.

“Fuck, you _ are _ wicked,” Hank said when he’d caught his breath again. Hank had no idea. Hank squinted in the morning light. “Might be late again,” he said, fumbling for his phone to check the time. 

“You won’t,” Connor said. 

Hank huffed as he found his phone, the blue light flooding his vision. Connor closed his eyes, pressing his hand against Hank’s chest so he didn’t have to see it. “Guess you’re right. Is this your way of trying to get me to work on time? The Connor sex clock?”

“No, but that wouldn’t be a bad idea.” Hank huffed again, content to hold Connor a moment longer. 

“‘Should probably get up,” Hank mumbled, rubbing his eyes with his palm. He slapped Connor’s thigh with his other hand, just shy of stinging. “Shit’ll dry if we don’t shower soon.”

“I don’t care,” Connor said, still not opening his eyes. 

“You will in an hour,” Hank said, but his tone wasn’t really worried. “C’mon, up, Connor.”

“I’m not the _ dog_,” Connor snapped, uncharacteristically. He could hear the dog’s shuffling outside the door, now, and knowing his human was awake, he’d only start whining soon if neither of them got up to feed him. Hank sighed, but either of them apologized. 

Hank shifted, his soft cock removed from Connor, Connor feeling the come sliding down his slit. “Okay, no shower then,” he said, and then Connor couldn’t see him as he reached down to get something from the floor. Hank’s shirt, he knew, when he felt the soft fabric between his thighs, wiping him clean. He heard the sound of the shirt, balled, thrown into the laundry basket. Then, he felt the press of a kiss on his brow. 

A moment later, after the pad of footsteps, and the murmuring to the dog, Connor heard the shower turn on. He was still lying there when Hank came back to dress. He peeled his eyes open when he felt Hank put his discarded boxers and shirt on the bed near his feet. 

He saw a blur of grey when Hank leaned down to kiss him. “Heading to work.” Connor nodded and watch him step to the bedroom door. He looked back at Connor, “I love you.”

“I know,” Connor said quietly. After a beat, with Hank hesitating in the doorway, Connor repeated back at him, “I love you too.” He glanced up, Hank still standing in the doorway. 

He was looking at Connor with heavy, dark eyes. “Is anything wrong?” Connor shook his head. It wasn’t surprising that Hank had asked, he was more astute than most humans, but even he couldn’t escape the glamour that came along with Connor’s kind. As expected, the man dropped it just because Connor said so, turning to leave after that. 

Connor didn’t want to think about how Hank never asked if Connor would be there when he got home anymore. Hank hadn’t asked Connor to move in with him, not really— Connor had just never left. And Hank had never questioned it. 

He hadn’t been back to his void in over a year, only slipping through it to get from place to place when he needed it. He knew that it would be calling him home soon enough, but like everything else, Connor didn’t want to think about it. So he didn’t.

Instead, he laid in bed until the sun shining through the window was blinding. Eventually he pulled on the clothes that Hank had left for him, the grey academy shirt of Hank’s too small for the older man to wear anymore. He went into the kitchen, passing the sleeping dog, to get a glass of water he didn’t really need. Water his demon didn’t need. But this human side of him— would need it, just this once.

After a little while of doing nothing but fiddling with Hank’s challenge coin, doing coin tricks he barely remembered how to do anymore, he slipped into the bathroom. He avoided his own appearance in the mirror. He wasn’t like a vampire— _ they _weren’t real— he couldn’t see his demonic form in the mirror, only this human one, but he felt as if he reached up into the mess of his hair he would feel the horns there. 

He squatted and reached into the back of the little cabinet by the bathroom door behind the few pieces of Hank’s ex-wife’s stuff, left there from years before Connor had met Hank, and the two humans had still been trying to make it work, for the sake of their son. Their _ human _ son, that Hank was still grieving. 

Connor shook his head, pulling out the plastic bag-wrapped box that he’d carefully hidden in a place Hank never looked. He stared down at the little box in his hand, still able to barely make out the lettering behind the red and white plastic. He’d purchased it a couple of weeks back, when he’d first gotten the inkling, with a couple dollars borrowed from Hank’s wallet and a void-trip to the farthest convenience store Connor knew of. 

Looking down at it, he didn’t even want to do this now. But he knew it would be unavoidable soon, because he could only put it off for so long by pretending it didn’t exist. 

He unwrapped the package, stuffing the bag and cardboard box into the trash. He stared down at the little plastic test, which was simple enough to use. It made him sick thinking about it, something he knew was all in his head, incubi couldn’t get sick— but he took the test anyway. 

He sat on the floor of the bathroom, knees pulled to his chest as he waited on the results. He left it face down on the tile, long after he knew the results had come in. He looked up, startled when he felt the brush of something cold brush comfortingly against his cheek. He’d been so distracted he hadn’t realized his tail had transgressed forms, the whip-thin member with an arrow-like tip curling around him, grounding him.

He sighed, knowing he was being ridiculous. Everything was already as it was, avoiding the problem wouldn’t actually change the outcome. His tail snaked out, curling around the plastic stick, bringing it before his eyes.

He already knew what it said, even before actually looking at it. But forcing himself to look at it meant forcing himself to accept it. 

_ Pregnant. _

He dropped his head to his knees and groaned, as his tail deposited the plastic stick on the corner of the sink, to be dealt with at a later time. 

Of course, now that he knew about it, so would Hell. Knowledge held power, moreso even than names. He knew the void would try and call him home soon, since he had completed his _ mission_, the mission that hadn’t been any sort of priority for years, now. Alongside the seduction and corruption of humans, his kind were supposed to procreate with them, leaving the humans with something that would grow into a child, or taking something from them and then delivering a _ gift _ to them in a few months. 

Something that may not even be human. How could he do that to Hank, who was still mourning his _ human _ child? Hank hadn’t asked for this, to have become a demon’s favorite paramour, when Connor hadn’t even been honest with the man about the true nature of his existence. 

He’d pretended to be human for so long, and now that was crumbling down around him. 

With his tail curling protectively around his ankle, his head still pressed into his knees, he breathed, thinking over his options. And he didn’t like any of them. 

His demon was telling him that he was finished there, that he should leave and go home to his void. He’d collected the semen of a human man and was now expecting a half-demon child, as their kind are wont to do. His kind weren’t soul collectors, the only authority they truely had over humans was in cases of vice. But Connor had been a terrible demon the past few years, and he knew it. He’d failed in corrupting Hank in the way that his kind were _ supposed _ to in cases of long-term seduction. 

He told himself the awash of guilt he felt for his place in Hank’s life was less than founded, as Hank was far better off in his drinking and his diet and being on time for work since Connor had come into his life. But even knowing the man wasn’t one bad day away from killing himself did little to quash the guilt. 

He’d been selfish, coming onto Hank at the bar three years ago. Hank had been just one of many conquests Connor had had at the time. He hadn’t cared who he was hurting, only that he needed to feed. He hadn’t intended to come back to Hank again, but when Hank _ thought _about him with such intensity, wanted him so fiercely, night after night, Connor allowed himself to be summoned. Of course, Hank hadn’t known that— Connor showed up on his doorstep, insatiable as always, and eventually he stopped leaving. 

So while his demon urged him to move on, to leave now, returning only in nine months to gift Hank with the child— knowing he would only see the child again if came of age and returned to him as a demon like he had to his father— his human side, the side that had been ignoring everything but Hank for years, couldn’t hurt Hank like that. Didn’t _ want _ to hurt Hank like that. 

He knew Hank had lost a child already, over a year before Connor had met him, and in twenty years he could lose another one to something he didn’t understand if Connor didn’t warn him beforehand. He knew, no matter how much he wished to alleviate Hank of any pain from this, he had already caused Hank pain just by existing. He didn’t know if he could even ask to say afterward. If Hank would _ want _ him to stay. 

And that wasn’t even— considering the_ baby _ in itself at all. Hank was fifty-three, which Connor knew was older for a human, and certainly older for a parent. They’d never talked about children before, except the once or twice when Hank had told him about Cole. Would Hank even want another child? 

He knew Hank loved him— what little he knew about Connor, past the fog that fell over his eyes when it came to things Connor couldn’t explain— but that didn’t mean he wanted anything else from Connor, wanted _ this_. Had Hank ever pictured anything more for them? Had _ Connor? _

But he knew he hadn’t. His life had been less than his own the past ten years, with a future surely to match it. Things like _ raising babies _ and being in love weren’t for his kind. Nevermind what he wanted. He had to tell Hank what he was, and about the baby, and then he was going to have to leave. There were no other options. 

Connor sat on the floor of the bathroom until the sky dimmed, leaving him in near-pitch blackness. He only moved when he heard the front door open. Through the bathroom door he heard the muddled sounds of Hank speaking, and Sumo barking. As he heard the back door open, he felt guilty for leaving the dog on its own for so long, and then— “Connor? Are you still in the dark?”

He stood up, his tail disappearing as he pushed the bathroom door open, nearly running into Hank’s back as the human looked into the bedroom. “Sorry,” Connor said. “I— how was your day?” 

Hank looked as he had when he’d left that morning, clad in a wild shirt that Connor loved, but with his brown jacket for the cold, boots still on his feet. And meanwhile, Connor hadn’t changed at all. He thought, perhaps, he should be wearing pants for this conversation. 

“Fine,” Hank said, pulling his jacket off as Connor searched for a pair of sweatpants he’d discarded some time ago. “Paperwork and stuff, mostly. Almost got called to a scene today, but Reed was closer and he handled it. Some guy killed his cheating wife,” Hank said, a normal day for him. Connor winced. Though his kind were not violent, they could incite it if they weren’t careful, and through two detectives Connor could smell the overwhelming lust of another demon. A succubus, maybe. 

When he looked over, Hank was looking at him. “Sorry, probably shouldn’t talk about that,” Hank said. It wasn’t the _ murder _ that bothered Connor. He shrugged, and then followed Hank back into the living room. 

He knew he couldn’t put this off forever, but he couldn’t quite make himself reach for the blue and orange shirt that was an arm’s length from him. 

“Hank, I—” Connor hesitated, but he knew he had to do this. His _ mission_, he thought bitterly, was complete. He’d begin to get the call back to their void soon, as soon as the others found out. His kind usually left each other to their own devices, unless, of course, something happened. 

Hank turned to him with the same concerned look from that morning. “What is it, sweetheart?” Hank asked, bringing his hand up to Connor’s shoulder with a comforting touch. 

“I have to tell you something, and I need— I need you to let me tell you, and I need you to believe me, okay, Hank?” He knew he was speaking quickly, but he’d never done this before. He’d seduced hundreds of people before he’d met Hank, and not once had he ever had to tell anyone his true nature. 

Hank’s brow furrowed, “O-kay. You’re starting to worry me a little bit, but I’ll listen.”

Connor sucked in a deep breath, reaching his hand into his pocket to close around Hank’s challenge coin. He’d been given the coin by the mayor of Detroit for his participation in a drug task force a few years back, and when he’d seen Connor performing coin tricks with a quarter, he’d tossed the coin to Connor. Connor hadn’t given it back since. 

Connor felt large hands close around his own. “Connor, sweetheart. Breathe.”

He nodded, meeting Hank’s sharp eyes. “I’m— I’m not _ human_, Hank.” 

Connor had considered quite a few reactions from the man, but Hank’s roaring laughter was not one of them. “I hadn’t quite figured this conversation to be a practical joke, Connor. I was worried for a second there.”

“It’s not a joke!” Connor said, jerking his hands back. “You promised you’d listen!”

“Alright, alright,” Hank said, his hands raised, his eyes mirthful.

“I’m not human,” Connor repeated, staring into Hank’s eyes. He flipped the coin in his fingers, but he wasn’t going to look away now. He could feel his brows furrow as he tried to think about the best way to go about it. For all the time he’d spent running, he’d never thought about how to actually do it. Perhaps leaving in the middle of the night wasn’t the worst option, after all. “I’m a type of demon called an incubus.”

Hank raised his eyebrows, “Like… a seduction demon?”

“Yes!” Connor said with a nod. He looked to Hank, but he could tell there was no light of recognition in Hank’s eyes. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

Hank sighed, rubbing the back of his head. “Gotta admit, Connor, that’s not… really an easy thing to just accept. I know that you’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever been with, but… not quite seduction demon level, Connor.”

“That’s because you haven’t really seen me!” Connor shouted, suddenly angry. He wasn’t going to be belittled, and by a human no less! 

“Connor—” Hank stood, reaching for him, but Connor shook his head. He wasn’t going to take a pitying look from this man and be done with it, have the man chalk this up to being overly tired or as a joke or something else. 

“_Think _ about the past three years, Hank,” Connor said, resisting the urge to imbue his voice with the seductive pull that would make Hank believe whatever he said. He needed Hank to hear the truth, so he could see past the glamour that had fallen on his eyes by Connor’s charm alone. “Haven’t you ever thought it strange that I never invited you over to my own place? That I never talk about work— that I don’t _ go _ to work?” he said, stepping closer into Hank’s space. 

“Yes, but—” Hank said, a perplexed look on his face.

“Isn’t it strange that I only eat when I want to? That in the past three years, you have learned almost nothing about me?” It hurt Connor, almost, to say that. He _ loved _ Hank, had fallen in love with everything he knew about the man, from the way he woke up each morning to the sadness he carried down to his soul. “In this conversation, have I _ breathed _ once?”

He saw Hank’s gaze fall to his lips. His unrising chest. “That’s not—”

“You’ve never really thought about it, have you, Hank? All of these inconsistencies with me? I thought you were a police lieutenant, Hank.”   
The reality of it was beginning to dawn on Hank’s face, the fog beyond his eyes beginning to clear as he began to acknowledge the truth Connor was speaking. But there was still a hesitation behind his eyes, standing his ground as Connor invaded his space. 

“Incubus— demons aren’t real, Connor,” Hank said, but Connor could tell that even Hank, a notorious skeptic, was beginning to doubt some parts of their relationship, thinking about all of the things that Connor had said. All of the things he _ hadn’t _ said. 

“Yes,” Connor said, trying to keep the deep, sultry tones from his voice as he cornered Hank. He would _ not _ let that side of him take over, not now. He didn’t need to seduce Hank in this moment, to let his pheromones and aura and his demonic side take over to bend him to his will. Something about Connor’s tone unsettled Hank, the man becoming unsteady on his feet, taking a hesitant step backward as Connor moved forward. “We are.” 

And then he let his skin peel away, revealing the cold, white flesh underneath. It wasn’t particularly horrifying, not like other demons who existed to horrify and maim, but he was still— he _ was _ still a demon, a minion of Hell’s army, who existed to seduce and corrupt and feed on human lust. He could feel as the last of his human skin faded away, and then he was left bare, standing _ naked _ before Hank, in a way that Hank had never seen before, even with all the other times he’d been fucked by Hank. 

No human had ever seen Connor’s true form like this before. Before him, he could see the color drain from Hank’s face as he took the form in. Connor knew he looked startling, his skin a pale, marbled white. His inhuman tail swung uncharacteristically shallow between his legs, his ears had grown long and pointed. Black, spiraling horns twisting from his head. The only part of Connor that probably looked human was his eyes, still a deep brown. 

And Hank looked— frightened. He hadn’t quite stopped moving, trying to back away from Connor in the small living room. His eyes hadn’t left Connor’s horrifying form. 

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Hank shouted, falling back onto the sofa. “Get the fuck away from me!” 

Connor flinched, stepping back. He couldn’t deny that that had _ hurt_, but what else had he expected? He’d come on strong, he hadn’t wanted any confusion in this, he’d wanted to make sure Hank _ knew _ what he was, and that he couldn’t deny it. 

He knew Hank _ loved _ him, the incubi couldn’t do anything but induce lust in their victims, even if Connor rarely even needed to use _ that _ part of himself. He hadn’t on Hank, not ever. Sometimes it had been hard to tell, at first, when he was using it and when he wasn’t, but Hank had liked _ him_, not the demon. But there was little recognition in Hank’s eyes now, and suddenly Connor began to wonder. Had he perhaps been wrong? Had he been influencing Hank without even knowing it, and now that the fog had lifted from his eyes, was he was beginning to see Connor for what he was— a stranger?

“I’m not going to _ hurt _ you,” Connor purred, unable to filter out the sultry tones in his voice. 

But even the purr in his voice wasn’t able to stop the dawning horror in Hank’s eyes from where he had fallen onto the couch. 

Knowing that Hank had certainly seen Connor’s demonic form and couldn’t deny it, Connor let his human skin return, until he— he felt like himself again. It hadn’t always been that way. When he was young it had felt freeing to shed his human appearance. But this, his soft human appearance, was what he had worn every day at Hank’s side, in his bed, as his lover. 

“What the Hell are you?” Hank said, and Connor didn’t want to look at him. Didn’t want to see the horror, the fear, the disgust that was surely still on his face.

He began to feel regret creeping up his chest, almost wishing that he’d made a different decision. That he’d still pretended to be human. But he hadn’t wanted to enthrall Hank any longer, even if all he’d ever done was smooth over the lies he’d told, so that Hank wouldn’t ask any questions he couldn’t answer. And besides— he was going to have a child. Hank’s child. 

Even if Connor spent the next twenty-one years pretending to be human, Hank too enthralled to ask any questions as to why Connor aged slower than humans, even if he only ever fed from one human, there might come a day when their child suddenly became something else, something that Connor couldn’t enthrall away. And by then, the damage would be insurmountable. Hank had already lost one child— a human child, Connor thought bitterly, something that Connor could never guarantee him— Connor couldn’t take another one from him without giving him all the facts. 

“You know what I am,” Connor said, this time less forcefully. “I told you I’m an incubus, a—”

“A demon, I know,” Hank said, looking at Connor warily. The initial shock was gone from his face, but he still looked… distrustful. “Didn’t imagine I’d be coming home to my boyfriend confessing to be a demon,” Hank mumbled to himself, running his hand through his hair, and pinching the bridge of his nose. Connor almost sighed in relief when Hank said boyfriend, no matter how he’d acted just a moment ago. Connor moved to step forward, to join him on the couch, but Hank’s head jerked up. “Stay over there,” he barked out.

“Okay,” Connor said quietly, taking a step back. Maybe he had been too hasty in his relief. 

After a few moments, Hank spoke up, his voice gruff. “So you’re from Hell?” 

“No, but I’ve been there,” Connor said. “It’s… not like what you humans imagine it is.” It wasn’t fire and brimstone and eternal torture, but it wasn’t… _ not_, either. Perhaps it was because he wasn’t that kind of demon, but his personal void had always been a place of solitude and peace for him. A place of life. 

Hank surveyed him heavily, though in this form, Connor looked exactly as he had for as long as Hank had known him. He seemed unsure of what to ask next. “So what are you here for?” Hank asked, and Connor froze. _ Now is the time to tell him_, Connor thought, but he struggled to get the words out. Seeing his hesitance to speak, Hank spoke again. “You’ve clearly already seduced me.” The gruff, reluctantly accepting way Hank had said it would have made Connor laugh under any other circumstances. “So what is it? Here to claim my soul? Not actually dead yet, as much as I’ve been trying.”

“I’m not that kind of demon, Hank,” Connor said with a roll of his eyes. “My kind feed on sexual energy. We don’t worry about the state of your soul— a little corruption, maybe,” Connor said, with a depreciating half-smile. “And by the state of your health, you can see how well I’ve been doing with that.” 

Hank was silently regarding him again, assessing him. “Have you—” he waved his hand around, trying to get the gist of it, “seduced me?” Connor heard the unasked question. _ Is this why I love you? _

“No, I swear it,” Connor said, already having expected the question. He shook his head fervently, “I have never used any of my seduction powers on you. Or really anyone else,” Connor admitted with a shrug. He knew that he was attractive, more than supernaturally so— all of his kind were. And more than that, Connor’s father preferred to seduce beautiful, young men and women to carry his offspring. “Is there anything else you want to know?” 

“How the Hell old are you, anyway?”

“_That’s _ what you want to ask?” Connor spouted, surprised. 

Hank shrugged, “Always wondered how a pretty young thing was interested in _ me_. The fact you were just in it for the soul-stealing sex makes a lot more sense.” Connor sighed, not reminding him that he wasn’t that kind of demon. 

“I’m thirty-two.” _ Like I told you_, he doesn’t say. “And I didn’t— that’s not why I’m with you.”

Hank gave him a sharp look, which sealed Connor’s mouth. “What, did you pop out of Hell, fully formed and have been seducing old men since?”

“I was born of flesh, Hank,” Connor said a little tiredly— and defensively. “My human mother, she— she has a special place…” _ in Hell_, “with my father for dying as she brought the two of us into the world.” Connor had seen her once, on his first trip into Hell, when he had just transformed. It had been a rough time, being twenty-one and only feeling like himself when he used someone else for his own pleasures. 

But that day in Hell, his head felt more clear than it had since his transformation. His mother had been a shadow of a person, smiling and beautiful and forever frozen like that. She had been cordial and kind when she had welcomed him and Nines and Amanda into Kamski’s residence, but there had been no hint of recognition, even when he’d tried to speak with her out of desperation. His father, Kamski, on the other hand, had regarded the two of his sons like prized creations. Connor had not felt his skin crawl like that since. But then again, he hadn’t been back to his father’s part of Hell since.

“Two of you?” Hank grunted, pulling Connor from his thoughts. 

“Yes,” Connor said, “my brother. Well my— my twin brother. I have a lot of half-siblings, on my father’s side. He’s quite a— prolific incubus.” They didn’t quite have a king of Hell, but if there was one, it would be his father. “Nines is the only one that matters.” But that wasn’t quite true. 

Connor liked Markus, but he hadn’t seen him in many years since he had left Hell with North, Hell’s most popular succubus. He’d liked Echo and Ripple, too. And Kara had also been sweet, right up until the day she found her only human child being threatened the child’s human father. Before then, Connor hadn’t known that their kind were the sort of demons that could even be violent. Why was it that his favorite siblings were always the ones that left?

Hank leaned back on the couch, hands behind his head, not looking away from Connor, but not quite looking at him either. Connor could not relax, could not settle, the coin flipping in his hands. “So you’re a demon. A seduction demon.” When Hank spoke, it startled Connor, and he nearly dropped Hank’s coin. 

“Yes,” Connor sighed, leaning on the armrest of the couch. Hank eyed him untrustingly, but didn’t tell him to keep his distance. 

“If not to steal my soul, then why are you with me? Surely there are more attractive targets to feed on.” Connor stayed silent as Hank spoke, as much as he wanted to defend himself, defend Hank from his own judgments, but it seemed Hank wasn’t done speaking. And what else could Connor say? That it was Hank’s own desperation and loneliness that drew Connor to Hank in the bar that night? That Connor knew that had he gone home with anyone else that evening, Hank would have ended his own life? “Am I that desperate for company that I’m the easiest target for demons to prey on?”

“Hank—” Connor said desperately, suddenly, trying to make Hank understand. “At first your desperation and lust was overpowering,” Connor said, “I’ll admit that was what drew me to you, but Hank— Hank, you’re not an _ easy target _ .” He tried to reach for Hank, but Hank drew himself away, his gaze cold. “That’s not why I’m with you, that’s not why _ I love you _ .” He looked at Hank with desperation. Hank always said it back to him. But not this time. As much as Connor wanted to, he wouldn’t beg Hank to say it. “I stayed, at first, because you needed _ me _ and that felt— nice,” Connor admitted. “But I stayed because I needed you. I fell in love with you, and I didn’t want anyone else but you.”

Hank regarded him with more scrutiny than he ever had before. “Why the Hell are you telling me this now?”

Connor looked down at his hands, clasping the coin above his stomach, turning it over in his hands. He tried to tell himself the worst of it was over, Hank was giving him a chance to explain, hadn’t kicked him out of the house immediately. But he knew that whatever Hank said about _ this _ would be far worse for Connor to hear than the judgments on his actions and nature. He couldn’t possibly be happy about a child conceived through the treachery and trickery of a demon. Connor couldn’t be certain he’d be happy about an entirely human one. 

“I’m pregnant.”

"What?” Hank roared, the way he did when he was surprised _ and _ angry. “What the fuck, Connor?”

Connor jerked his head up, meeting Hank’s eyes with a cold fury. “What do you _ want _ me to say, Hank?” 

“That it’s a mistake!” Hank roared. “That this whole goddamn conversation is a mistake! That my boyfriend isn’t a _ demon _ who’s hellbent on seducing me for food, and stealing my sperm to have a— a demon child!”

“Well I can’t!” Connor said, growing increasingly upset with each sentence Hank spoke.

“And what will _ it _ be?” Hank said, with a head thrust in Connor’s direction. He wasn’t _ looking _ at Connor. Connor felt himself curl inwardly, as if to protect the child.

“I don’t _ know_,” Connor said, trying to reign in the urge to lash out. The child wasn’t an _ it_. “The child will be human till it comes of age, and until then only the gods will know whether the child will be like you— or like me.” 

“So it could be like you,” Hank said, his tone accusatory.

“Yes, Hank!” Connor said, his hands curling into fists in frustration. “I told you,” he said more quietly this time, “it might be like you or me.” What he _ didn’t _ say was that he hoped it would be like Hank. “What do you _ want _me to say?”

Hank looked at him sharply, his eyes flicking down to Connor’s stomach, and then back up to his face. Even with all of Connor’s experience reading people— reading Hank— he could not tell the expression on his face. It wasn’t until he spoke that Connor realized it was sadness. “You know,” Hank said, his voice weary, “if you’d told me about this first, I would have been happy about it.”

“But you’re not,” Connor said, “happy about it.”

“No, Connor,” Hank said, “I’m not happy that my— that you, a demon, are pregnant with my half-demon child.” This time, Hank didn’t say _ boyfriend_. Connor tried not to pout as he thought about whether this meant Hank was breaking up with him. Connor supposed he had already broken Hank’s heart, so it was only fair. 

“Okay.”

“What are you still doing here?” Hank sighed. He reached up, pinching the bridge of his nose. Connor opened his mouth, but he was at a loss for words. He was still here because he wanted to be here. Because he loved Hank, and what he _ wanted _ to do more than anything, despite his demonic instincts urging him to go _ home _ to the void, was to _ stay_. 

“I can leave, if you want me to,” Connor said. _ Please don’t make me leave, please don’t_.

“Yeah,” Hank said, instead, not hearing Connor’s silent pleas. “That’s probably— yeah.”

So Connor nodded as he stood straighter, Hank not looking at him, and stepped backward into his void. 

It was where Nines found him, some numerous hours later, sitting on the white stone path by the river. The coin was still heavy in his pocket, and the knowledge heavy on his Hell-bound soul. Their own private corner of Eden not enough to pacify him. 

“Connor,” Nines said, his hand falling to Connor’s shoulder. His voice was gentle, tones deeper than Connor’s, even after his second transformation. “Welcome home.”

“How did you know I’d come back?” Nines hadn’t sounded surprised to see him, though the last time he’d been present in their void had been over a year ago. He hadn’t seen his brother since then. 

“It is _ our _void, it let me know when you returned,” Nines told him. Connor could see his brother’s shadow standing over him, but he made no move to sit or remove his comforting hand. 

“And you know about the other thing?”

“Yes,” Nines sighed. 

“I would have thought _ you _ would be happy about it, I’m finally doing what an incubus _ should _.” Connor tried not to sound as if he were pouting as he pulled blades of grass from the everlasting garden of the void. The grass had begun yellowing the longer he sat in the void, the usual everlasting spring turning yellow and brown in a facade of autumn, reflecting Connor’s inner turmoil. 

“Connor,” Nines said, kneeling beside his brother. “You’ve always been doing what an incubus should. You know I’m not like— _ father _ .” If he was, Connor knew Nines would have had his own army of children by then. “But you— you grew _ attached _.” He looked over at his brother fondly. “I did warn you.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“You know I am,” Nines said bitterly. “But I _ left _.” 

Nines had always been stronger than Connor, even if Connor was older. Nines had been able to pull himself away from the only human he’d ever loved, before the damage was done, unlike Connor. Now the damage Connor had inflicted was irreparable and it was his own stupidly selfish fault. His eyes flicked over to the grey-blue eyes of his brother, a storm brewing in them as he picked at his own blades of grass beside Connor.

“I saw him once,” Connor admitted quietly.

Nines’ head shot up, cold blue eyes boring into Connor. “What?”

“He _ works _ with Hank, Nines.” Nines’ stare did not lift. “It was only inevitable that he would come by the house sometime. He looked at me like he was seeing a ghost. He knew I wasn’t you, but even my appearance was enough to shake him. Will Hank be like that, I wonder?” When Connor looked up again, Nines wasn’t looking at Connor at all. He was staring off into the sky, a replica of what existed on earth. “I know you watch him sometimes,” Connor admitted. “It’s where you go when you say you’re feeding, sometimes. I can tell, you know, when you come back after you’ve said you fed but you didn’t.”

“Yes, well,” Nines said, but he didn’t seem to know what to say after that. 

Eventually, Nines sat down beside Connor fully, and the two stared in the distance, their mind on other things entirely. 

“I know you think I’m stupid for wanting to stay,” Connor said eventually. Like the seasons, time didn’t pass in the void like it did on the human plane, so the soft pink evening sky didn’t ever shift into night. 

“You’re not stupid,” Nines said. “Foolish, maybe.” He cracked a smile, Connor shoving him to the side with a gentle push. Connor felt himself smiling for the first time since entering the void that day. “You look well.”

“Well, or well satiated?” 

Nines shrugged, “Same thing, for us.” Connor looked over at his brother. He knew that was Nines’ way of asking him if he was _ happy_. 

“I _ was_,” Connor said. “I am, I guess.” He didn’t know what would come next, but he wouldn’t have traded the past three years for a _ hundred _ if it meant he’d had to be with anyone but Hank. 

“That thing’ll give you another year,” Nines said, as if he knew what Connor was thinking. 

He didn’t have to touch anyone until the child was born, if he didn’t want to. Satisfying their needs by seducing humans was more than just feeding, it was part of their life force. They didn’t age as they were seducing others, though if they simply wished to feed, once a week was enough. Their lives were extended considerably, not really needing to feed, while they were carrying a human child, or when they successfully impregnated another. And being in the void reduced that need even further. 

Being with Hank had been more than enough to keep him satiated, so much so that while he hadn’t stopped aging completely, his aging had slowed considerably. It was probably why he still looked twenty-five, why their father looked barely over thirty, though they knew him to be hundreds— if not thousands— of years old. 

Connor pulled his legs up to his chest. He knew the baby would give him another year to move beyond Hank, but he didn’t want to. The void was without time, in a way humans understood anyway. He could hide away there, in the void, for the entire pregnancy if he wanted to. But he couldn’t run away from it. 

“You know you’ll have to return the child to its father,” Nines said gently. “It can’t be raised here.” _ It’s human_, the words unspoken. Neither of them would be able to tell what form the child would take later in life, but until it came of age it would be _ human_. Their void was no place for a human. “Perhaps someday it will return to us,” Niles said, but even then, he spoke hesitantly. Less than half of the children born between humans and demons shared their demonic curse. And then, Connor wasn’t sure he wanted it to. But that would, of course, mean never seeing it again.

“Maybe I could— raise it myself, like Amanda did for us.”

“Connor,” Nines said sharply. “It’s human parent still lives. All rules dictate that it must return to him.”

He sighed, “I know.” If Hank didn’t want it, it might be a different story, but the human world grew ever more complex with their laws and regulations that Connor wasn’t entirely sure he could follow. 

“Will you stay here, then?” Nines asked. 

“For now,” Connor said. “Are you leaving?” 

“No,” Nines shook his head. “I’ve fed recently. I can stay with you for a while longer.” 

Connor nodded his head, content to sit in the silence for a while with his brother. Without time passing there, it was hard to know how long it had been in the human realm. He only knew that it had been days when Nines finally needed to feed, leaving the void in search of humans to satisfy his hunger. 

When Nines didn’t return for some time, Connor resigned himself to being alone, at least in the meantime. He didn’t mind, not really. It was easier to be in the numbness of the void, where his thoughts were fewer and far between than when he was in the human realm— or even in Hell. 

It wasn’t until he felt a flare of desire that he was jolted out of his stasis, blinking up at the mottled pink sky. The void hadn’t changed since Nines had left. When Connor stood, he knew that if he had been human his body would have been stiff and unmoving, but as a demon, his body felt as though he had just sat down. 

He breathed in, allowing himself to mull over the desire he felt. Connor knew the desire he was feeling wasn’t his own, but was directed _ at _ him from a person thinking _ about _ him. Having been at this long enough, he could tell it wasn’t a sexual desire, either, but something else, something softer. And he recognized the human thinking about him. _ Hank_. 

Connor tried not to get his hopes up. Hank was thinking about him, enough that Connor could _ feel _ it, but that didn’t mean anything. For half a moment he debated just… not going. Giving Hank a taste of what Connor had been feeling, but Connor knew himself better than that. He was never very good at denying himself anything, it wasn’t in his nature. So he sighed, and walked into the rift— right into Hank’s living room, just two feet away from the swearing man himself. 

“Oh Jesus, warn a guy next time,” Hank grumbled, looking startled at Connor’s sudden appearance. Connor stood for a moment, taking Hank in. He didn’t really look any different from the last time Connor had seen him, he was even wearing the same dark jeans he’d been wearing when Connor had left. But this was the longest time Connor had gone without seeing him— even if he wasn’t quite clear on how_ long _ it had been. 

“Would you prefer that I used the door?” Connor asked dryly. Hank snorted, and then shrugged. “How long have I been gone?” 

“About a week,” Hank said, rubbing the back of his head. “What, you don’t have clocks in Hell?” 

“Wasn’t in Hell,” Connor said with a sigh. “What did you want?” he asked, eyes flicking over Hank. The man before him sighed, rubbing the back of his head. He was standing with the couch between them, as if to keep the distance. 

“After you left I realized you don’t have a fucking phone,” Hank said, mildly annoyed. It seemed the fog was lifting from him faster than Connor could have predicted. He smiled at Hank almost sheepishly. “How the Hell did you know I wanted to speak with you?”

"I can… tell when someone desires something from me,” Connor said, sitting gingerly at the edge of Hank’s couch. What had been _ their _ couch just days ago. “I knew you _ wanted _ something— something other than sex— and so I appeared. I’m not sure if you remember it, but in the early days I showed up in the middle of the night quite a lot to fulfill your desires. I knew you were thinking about me.”

“Yeah, well, cut that shit out,” Hank huffed, crossing his arms. Connor smiled, almost sadly, but nodded. He couldn’t exactly turn it off, like he’d said it wasn’t a phone, but when Hank stopped wanting anything from him he’d stop being aware of him entirely. 

“You said you wanted to talk?” Connor probed gently. 

“Yeah,” he said, looking over at Connor with scrutinizing eyes. “Yeah, I have questions.”

“I thought you might,” Connor nodded. Hank had asked all the knee-jerk questions about demons initially, but incubi weren’t exactly covered extensively in many religious subjects or the media, so Hank probably hadn’t even know what to really ask of him.

“I did some research,” Hank said, clearing his throat. “Didn’t really turn up much, too much conflicting information.”

Connor nodded. It wasn’t often they sat and talked candidly with humans, and even then, it wasn’t always in their best interests to talk openly with them. 

“Have I ever… been with another of you before?” Hank asked, clearing his throat. Connor wasn’t sure what to expect of the first question, so he wasn’t sure if he was surprised or not. 

Connor wanted to step forward to Hank, like he’d done a thousand times before, and take in his scent. Connor’s kind weren’t fear or really even malice demons, so he couldn’t really smell _ fear _ on humans, but he could always smell the lust— and when another had touched their souls, however long ago. Hank was an older human, probably the oldest he’d ever been with, but demon scent lasted a long time. Other than rivaling demons, Connor’s kind rarely ever touched another’s prey, so he was pretty sure that he was Hank’s only demon. 

Instead of moving, he shook his head. “No. But… you know others who have.” 

Hank’s eyes darkened, “With you?”

“I don’t… think so,” Connor said, more than a little hesitant. Despite being able to smell other demons on people, it was much harder to smell lust secondhand. He knew he’d never seduced anyone at Hank’s precinct, at least currently, but Hank dealt with dozens of people every day. Detroit wasn’t the largest city in the world, and there were only so many people in it. “Reed’s been with an incubus before,” he admitted, offering no explanation as to how he knew that. “Not _ me_,” he made sure to clarify. 

The admission startled Hank into a barked laugh. “Always knew he was going to Hell.” Connor shifted from foot to foot, not wanting to remind Hank _ again _ that that wasn’t his kind of demon. “So how many of there are you?”

“Of my kind? Unsure,” Connor admitted. “With my father’s… involvement in the city these past thirty-odd years, my kind here has grown exponentially. Most of them are my siblings, but we don’t exactly hold family reunions.” Many of them, however, liked to spend time together in Hell, hanging around their father’s palace. He sighed, “As for… all demons, there are as many of them as there are human sins.” Not everyone who committed sins went to Hell, but as angels came from human good, demons were often born from human misery. 

Hank whistled lowly, “Too goddamn many to count, huh.” Connor nodded. 

Most of what Hank found was probably true, in some form or another, with how many of them were really out there, simmering under the earth, it was hard for even their own kind to catalog it all. With the next question, Connor was pretty sure the man was recalling the incubus Wikipedia page, going down the list of things he was pretty sure Hank didn’t actually care about, but was asking anyway. If to put off asking something else, Connor wasn’t sure. 

“So can your kind switch… forms or whatever, from incubus to succubus and back or whatever?” 

That made Connor pause, hesitating as he spoke. “That’s a soft no. That’s not something we can do at will, not like… more pure forms of demons, I suppose. We’re still _ human _ in many ways, this _ is _ my body, very much as it was before my transformation.” Lust was a human sin, after all. He glanced down, recalling some of the more ridiculous stories. “We don’t steal sperm from men as succubus and then become an incubus to inject it into women or anything. This is—” he waved over himself, “Me. We are born as we are, and we say that way.” He hesitated for a single moment, which was stupid. “Unless we don’t,” he said softly, meeting Hank’s eyes. They’d never _ talked _ about it, their first time Hank too high on lust to really care about _ anything_, but it was no secret that Connor wasn’t a cis man— he was pregnant for god’s sake. 

“Ah,” Hank said, unsure about how to phrase it. “So you were… a succubus.”

Connor spoke, “Briefly.” Things were a little more— and simultaneously less— complicated in that department in Hell. 

Hank’s face went a little red, his hand gesturing as he asked, “What about the— repeated sexual activity with demons and the… decline in health and death and stuff?” Connor knew he was leaving off the part about _ mental _ health, because Hank was, sometimes, still in a bad place after the accident, four years ago now. “Since I’ve been with you, I’ve gotten a lot… better about those things, actually.” 

Connor cracked a smile, “I never said I’ve been a very _ good _ incubus, Hank.” 

Hank regarded him with something more closed off that he was expecting. So far the conversation hadn’t been, well, _ bad_. He wasn’t sure where it was going, whether this was Hank’s attempt to get answers out of him as closure, or if this was leading somewhere else. 

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Hank asked. He sounded more tired than anything. There was a hint of an edge to his voice, the way he stood more stiffly, as if he was leading up to some bigger question. 

Connor shrugged, “I don’t know. It wasn’t— it wasn’t always about_ you _ .” He hesitated, admitting, “With you I was human, or the closest I’ve been in a long time. But with _ this_,” he said, gesturing to himself in a way to make very clear that he was referring to the baby, “I knew I couldn’t go any further without telling you. It wouldn’t be fair, to either of you.” 

Hank snorted, looking down at his own hands. Connor couldn’t be certain, but he thought he heard the man snort,_ fair_. 

He continued staring at Hank until the man opened his mouth to speak again. Though Connor could tell he was trying to sound casual about it, as though he didn’t care, Hank’s body told a different story as he asked, “Have you been with others this whole time?”

“No. Not— not the _ whole _ time,” Connor insisted. It was another fragment of himself held down by layers of guilt he wasn’t sure he could ever escape from. “Not for over two and a half years,” Connor said with a shake of his head. 

“So before that, you were?” Hank asked, pressing forward. Connor didn’t want to look at him, but he forced himself to, nodding. 

“Yes,” Connor said, feeling, well, ashamed for the first time in his demonic life. “The first— three months of _ this_,” he said, waving between them. Hank was staring, and Connor, not for the first time, wished he _ was _ some other kind of demon, the kind that could read others’ minds, or the kind that _ liked _ human misery. Somehow, Connor thought, that this was going to be the thing that broke him down. So he kept talking. “It wasn’t— they were just people to satisfy my hunger. We aren’t really supposed to be with people more than a few times, but I kept going back to you even though I knew I shouldn’t,” he rambled. “I tried resisting your call, back then, with other people, but no one else satiates me like _ you _ do.” 

“Connor,” Hank said, with a sigh. Connor looked up, startled to see Hank suddenly much closer than before, his hands falling on Connor’s to steady him, as he had many times before. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “That was—” he sighed, “a long time ago. We weren’t exclusive then, or whatever. Honestly, I don’t even remember asking you to be my boyfriend.”

“That’s probably because you _ didn’t_,” Connor said. “You wanted me there every night, and I wanted to be there, and so I just never left,” he said with a shrug. “When you started calling me that, I didn’t object.” 

Hank nodded, and looking down at their still-clasped hands, pulled his hands back suddenly. Connor didn’t let himself chase after them, keeping his hands to himself. 

“So what now?” Hank asked, tiredly, running a hand through his hair. When his hand fell away, a single lock of hair fell over his forehead. 

Connor realized he was staring when Hank cleared his throat. “What now?” Connor repeated slowly. 

“Yeah, what now?” Hank asked, now standing at a defensive stance before him, “Now that you’ve gotten what you wanted from me, what now? Moving on to the next middle-aged fool that falls for your pretty face?”

“Gotten what I—” Connor looked to him, confused.

“Don’t play dumb, Connor,” Hank said, his irritation only growing. “You’re— pregnant, you got my sperm or whatever,” he said, and then muttered, to himself, “as if you couldn’t have done that ages ago, insisting on wearing condoms…”

Connor stared at him, floored. “Got what I wanted from you?” He heard his own voice rise, as he stood, feeling anger take over. “I already _ had _ what I wanted from you!” 

“What the H—”

“I had _ you _ !” Connor said. “I didn’t— I didn’t _ ask _ for this,” he said, faltering for a moment. He wasn’t sure if he meant the demonhood or the baby. “I had everything I wanted, I had _ you_. I was happy pretending to be human, I was happy here, in our house. But I got complacent, I got sloppy—” he said, curling his fists. “And I knew I couldn’t pretend anymore. I don’t want to move on, I love you, and I was foolish for hoping that things wouldn’t change.”

He wasn’t looking at Hank, and Hank wasn’t looking at him. Connor felt the sudden anger pool out of him in the silent room. What had he expected, really? For Hank to get over the fact Connor was a demon so easily? For him to welcome him back into his arms so easily, as if they’d fought over something as simple as a change in Hank’s diet? He hoped, knowing that Hank was a good man, that Hank could forgive the child, at least, for its nature. That wasn’t its fault. 

The room stayed silent, and Connor took that as his cue to leave. “I’ll be back in a few months,” Connor said, “with the child. You won’t have to see me. The child is yours by the laws of our kind. If you don’t wish to… raise it, that is your choice.” 

“If I don’t, will you?”

“No,” Connor said with more than a tinge of regret. “I don’t get that option.”

He turned, the rift in reality opening up before him. The light from his void filtered into Hank’s living room. Before he was able to step forward, he felt a hand on his wrist, stopping him. “How much of it was real?” Hank asked. 

“All of it,” Connor said, feeling himself break down. “I’m sorry I lied for so long.”

“It wasn’t lying,” Hank said gently, seemingly having made up his mind. He reached forward, cupping Connor’s face in his much larger hands. “Connor,” he said, far too gently. “What if you stayed?” As Hank’s thumbs brushed over Connor’s cheeks, Connor felt tears spill out over his cheeks. Hank brushed them away, and then pulled Connor against his chest. 

“I didn’t even know I could do that anymore,” Connor said into Hank’s broad chest. 

“Connor,” Hank said again, like a mantra. “What if you _ stayed _?”

Connor buried his head farther into Hank’s chest, not knowing how to answer the question in a satisfactory way. “I wouldn’t ever be fully human. Those stories of a demon loving humans isn’t true, I wouldn’t lose my powers or my need to feed and I—”

“I didn’t ask what wouldn’t happen,” Hank said, the rumbling in his chest a comforting presence. “I asked what would.”

“I would be _ happy_,” Connor admitted. “I wouldn’t be the first to leave. But if I stayed I couldn’t come back, I would be banished from my family, like my other siblings have been.”

Hank was silent, and when Connor finally got the courage to look upwards at Hank’s face, the human looked contemplative. “I can’t ask you to leave your family.” 

“You are my family,” Connor mumbled. “I wanted you to be, at least. That’s why I was so afraid for so long to do anything about it. Lust is easy, everything else is so hard.”

Hank pulled Connor with him down onto the couch. “Then stay with me. You’ve done this for so long already, what’s the rest of your life?” Connor nodded into the broad chest, allowing himself to relish in the continued silence. Hank’s hand had slipped down to settle over Connor’s hard stomach, to where the baby was. It was the first time Hank had touched him like that since Connor had known for sure, and there was a part of him that felt— _ pride_, from knowing he was carrying Hank’s child, whatever it might be. 

But the longer they sat there, the more antsy he felt. The rift in the void had sealed over the moment Hank had touched him, as if rejecting the human presence. But he still didn’t feel settled. There was still a part of him drawn away. 

“I don’t— I don’t know what to do next,” Connor admitted. They had been sitting together on the couch for some time. Though the blinds were partially closed, he could tell that when he’d arrived, the sun had been low in the sky, but still there. Now the sky was dark. 

“I did some research on _ you_, you know,” Hank said. He had his strong arms around Connor, a warm embrace. As much as he _ desired_, feeding from sexual energy, the little bit of him that was still human craved a non-sexual touch on occasion. 

“What kind of research?” Connor murmured. 

“The police kind,” Hank chuckled. “It wasn’t easy, as there was no missing persons report filed on you, but I found your human records.”

“Oh,” Connor said. Though it had only been eleven years ago, it felt like a lifetime ago. In truth, much of his human life felt like it was hidden beneath the fog that fell over his victims. He could still remember it, of course, but it felt so far away. Like he’d come alive when he’d transformed. 

“You were in college. You dropped out after finishing two years,” Hank murmured into his hair. “You lived with a woman named Amanda, who died a few years ago.” Connor nodded, humming into Hank’s chest. “You still exist. Though your license has been expired for about eight years.” 

“You don’t really need a license when you can travel through space in the void,” Connor laughed.

“I’m not sure ‘void teleportation’ is considered ‘reliable transportation’ for a job, Connor,” Hank laughed, but when Connor was silent, he looked down at the younger man. 

“A job,” Connor said with more than a little hesitation. He hadn’t really— _ thought _about it. His only marketable skills were not only off the market, but illegal in human terms. 

"You don’t really cost a lot, you know, not eating unless you want to,” Hank said. “But a job goes a long way in making you appear human. You’re still— human age, I guess,” Hank said, rubbing the back of his head. “So with a little of that seduction magic of yours to make people overlook the fact you haven’t done anything in the past ten years, it shouldn’t be too difficult to reintegrate you into society.”

“You’ve thought about this a lot, clearly,” Connor said, unsure how to feel about it. On one hand, the fact Hank had thought about it meant they weren’t going to head into the world blindly, like he was so afraid of, but that also meant… Hank had definitely wanted this. He’d called Connor into the world wanting Connor to stay, but said some of these hurtful things anyway. 

“And we could— get married or something,” Hank mumbled. “If you wanted.” 

Connor jerked up, nearly headbutting Hank as he looked up at the man in surprise. Hank regarded him with more than a little hesitation, and— regret. “Don’t need to look so shocked. It was just a suggestion,” Hank said gruffly.

“Don’t take it back,” Connor said with more force than he’d intended. 

“I— okay, I won’t,” Hank said, looking at him with a little surprise. He didn’t ask what that meant for them, and Connor wasn’t sure, so didn’t say. He wasn’t sure how much his demon was going to like that, being confined to a single person for the rest of Hank’s mortal life— or even after that, if Hank was anything like Connor’s mother— but Connor didn’t really care. 

But there was something still holding him back, something that was pulling him back into the void. He hoped it was what he was thinking of, because this _ pull _ was far more distracting than anything he’d ever felt in his demonic life, and couldn’t imagine how his liberated siblings lived with it if this was just how he was going to feel for the rest of his slightly-less-than-mortal life. 

“I have something to do first,” Connor said, pulling back from the embrace.

“I wasn’t suggesting _ now_,” Hank said, mildly chuffed, but he let Connor leave his arms to stand. 

“I have to— get something, before I can really be free of this—” Connor said. He tried to imbue the urgency of it, the promise of it being vital to— to his very being, and he wouldn’t be settled without it. “I’ll— I’ll be back, I promise.”

“Okay,” Hank said, his hand on Connor’s shoulder. The look he gave Connor was full of trust. Connor never wanted to break that trust again. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to Hank’s for the first time since starting this. With the feeling of another’s lips on his own, Connor nodded, and then stepped back into the void.

When he opened his eyes, the normally colorful garden was covered in snow. Connor had only seen it like this, once, when Amanda had been killed. The garden was in mourning. If Connor could feel the cold like a human, he might have frozen where he stood. But the void wasn’t real, not like the human realm was. It had changed to suit those who lived there, growing as attached to them as they had to it. He looked around, squinting in the growing blizzard, till he saw the man he was looking for. 

Nines was standing stoic in the center of the void garden, as if this blizzard didn’t have an effect on him at all. And it probably didn’t— it wasn’t Nines the garden was rejecting. Connor could see his harsh blue eyes through the white, almost glowing. He made no move to cross the garden to find Connor, so Connor knew it would be up to him to reach his brother. 

Crossing the void was far more difficult than Connor could ever have imagined. The snow, feeling the texture and weight of snow from the human plane, piled high at his feet, slowed him down. The plants were frozen solid, tripping him up, trying to cut at his clothing as he stumbled to the bridge, slippery with void ice. Connor didn’t feel cold, but there was a certain numbness associated with it. He barely made it across the bridge without falling. He stumbled at his brother’s feet, feeling the glowing blue eyes on him. 

Nines stood as still as a statue, a marble effigy in place of his brother, as Connor pulled himself to his feet. “You’re leaving,” Nines said, voice resounding clear through the storm.

“Yes,” Connor said, his voice nearly lost in the wind, reaching for the lapels of Nines’ coat, pulling himself closer to his brother in the face of the storm. 

“You have made your choice, then,” Nines said. His voice was quiet, unlike the deep, seductive tones he used on humans. He sounded— he sounded like he did before, when they were human. Lost. Anyone who knew him less might have thought his blue eyes held judgment, but Connor knew they were full of sorrow, but Nines wouldn’t cry. He hadn’t cried since they were children. 

“And you could make yours!” Connor had to shout over the storm for his brother to even hear him, holding tightly to the lapels of his brother’s coat. 

“I don’t— I don’t have anything waiting for me, as you do.” It was strange to hear Nines’ voice so clear against the resounding storm, the soft tones lapping over the hailing wind. 

“You do,” Connor said, his voice breaking as he spoke. “You have _ me_. And Hank, and this baby. _ We _ are your family, not father. The only one here who ever cared about us is long gone.” Connor knew Nines was not particularly attached to their father, or anyone in Hell, but he had never been one to break the rules, feeling the disastrous aftershocks of his one broken rule so long ago. 

“I don’t— I don’t know,” Nines said, his eyes flicking down. The storm only grew louder as Nines began to shrink back. If it continued like this for much longer, Connor feared that he would no longer be able to hear Nines at all, his brother lost to the void. 

“There might be someone else out there, waiting for you,” Connor insisted. He couldn’t let his brother be swallowed by the void, not when they were so close to— to freedom from the curse of being a demon. 

Nines’ eyes flicked up to Connor. His voice was growing louder. “Its been ten years, Connor. I doubt Gavin even remembers me. Not like I remember him.” 

Connor knew Gavin had been Nines’ first victim, the first person he’d picked up after their transformation. While Connor had been seducing every co-ed that came near him, desperate and hungry, Nines had spent a month with the newly-promoted detective, who he’d met just days before his own transformation. 

“You won’t know until you try, Nines. Come with me,” Connor pleaded. Nines looked beyond his brother into the frozen landscape, and without another word, he nodded. Connor’s hand fell to his brother’s, clasping their cold hands together. 

The storm only grew heavier as they crossed the frozen landscape towards the blinding light of the exit. The two stumbled in the piling snow, skidding across the frozen pond, until they reached the rift. Connor fell head-first into it, tugging his brother with him and back into Hank’s living room. He could feel their connection to the void sever, like a cut limb. But the overwhelming distraction, the _ pull _was gone, having taken his brother with him. 

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Hank rush to stand, reaching for them. Connor felt Hank’s hand on his arm, tugging the brothers upwards. 

“Oh, Jesus,” Hank said, stepping backward and out of their space. “You weren’t kidding about the twin.”

“Why would I be kidding about that, of all things?” Connor said, looking at Hank wryly. But he took in the man, feeling such— _ relief_. There was still a part of him that would never really belong in this realm, but the part of him that felt to divided was now here, present. 

“You know, when you said you had to do something, I didn’t think you meant _ fetch a person_, sweetheart,” he’d stepped forward to wrap his arms around Connor, pressing a kiss into his hair. 

“I couldn’t leave him behind, Hank,” Connor said, feeling as though he had to brush the void snow from his shoulders, though it was gone with the void. Well, he thought, it wouldn’t really ever be gone, but since they had turned their backs on their nature, the void would never resemble anything but that frozen wasteland. If he had left Nines there, alone, the void would have healed eventually, as it had when Amanda was taken from them. 

Hank turned to Nines, offering his free hand to Connor’s brother. “You must be Richard—”

“Nines,” Nines corrected him, softly. Right, Connor thought, he’d probably seen Nines’ records too. 

Nines looked at Hank’s offered hand, a little hesitant as he reached for it. Connor watched as he shook Hank’s hand stiffly, dropping it as quickly as he’d taken it. Nines looked down at his hand strangely, as though there was some piece he wasn’t seeing. Connor knew the handshake must have been Nines’ first non-sexual touch with a human in over a decade. His brother rarely left the void, except to visit Hell to see their father, far more a devoted son and demon than Connor had ever been, except to feed. He would have had no reason to spend any time on the human plane otherwise. 

“So’s that your… demon name, then?” Hank asked. He looked down at Connor, “Do _ you _ have a demon name? Eights?” 

Connor laughed. “No, Hank, I don’t have a demon name. That’s Nines’ regular nickname.” 

“Alright,” Hank said, the three of them standing in the space, almost awkwardly. Connor wondered if it had been like this before, and he just hadn’t realized it, or if it was just dawning on Hank that he had now volunteered to willingly share his home with two— maybe even three— demons. Hank looked to the couch, and then back at the brothers. “So do you two— sleep?”

Connor raised his eyebrows as if to say, _ you’ve seen me sleep_, but Hank just shrugged. Nines, still staring down at the couch, unsure of what to do with himself, nodded. “We can.” 

“Okay, well,” Hank said, putting his hands on his hips. “The guest room is— less than ideal,” he admitted. “Never really used it as anything but a place to store junk, so it might take a few days to clean it out enough for you to sleep in— honestly I’m not even sure there’s a bed in there, actually—”

“The couch is fine,” Nines said, his voice low. 

Hank nodded and Connor watched as he grabbed some extra bedding from the hall closet, setting up the couch. As Connor pointed out where things were in the house, Nines followed silently, knowing neither of them would have to use much of the utilities unless they wanted to. When Hank was finished with the bedding, Nines sitting silently on the made couch, Connor pulled Hank into their own bedroom. 

For a moment, he allowed himself to take in the room— the sight of a messy bed, both sides slept on, clothes abandoned on the floor instead of a hamper, the scent of _ Hank— _having been unsure he would ever see it again. “Connor,” Hank murmured as he wrapped his arms around Connor, pressing his face into Connor’s neck. “You alright?”

“Yes,” Connor said, “I am now.”

They stood like that for a few moments, until Connor felt himself growing cold— actually cold— and they stripped and fell into bed. Occasionally, the wash of light from a passing car would flood in from the windows, lighting the room. Connor knew neither of them were sleeping, so he rolled over to press his face into Hank’s pillow, facing him.

He hoped Hank wasn’t finding regrets in any of this, but Hank just reached over to run his hand through Connor’s hair. “What are you thinking about?” Connor asked. 

“A lot of things,” Hank shrugged. “Do you think your brother is alright? He’s not exactly what I expected from another incubus— or what I expected from your brother.”

Connor shrugged this time, “He’ll be alright. This is probably the first time he’s really been alone in a decade.” But having said that, Connor was worried, too. He hoped Nines wasn’t lonely out there, even if Sumo was there to keep him company. 

Hank swore, and Connor saw the light from the road catch his eye. “Really? A decade? Never the same person?”

Connor rolled his eyes, “What did you _ think _we did, Hank? And it wasn’t always different people, but we weren’t supposed to grow attached, so if it happened it was usually days, maybe weeks apart. So long that by the time they dreamed of us again, they thought it had been just that— a dream.” 

Hank hummed, thinking it over. “So what are you two going to do after this? Does he know?”

“He— he had someone, someone like you are to me, a long time ago,” Connor admitted. It wasn’t his place to tell Nines’ secrets, or even Gavin’s, though he was sure Hank would know in time. “I know he wants to see him again, even if he doesn’t know how to do that right now. And I—” He breathed in. “You know that I have a lot of siblings? Not just Nines?”

“I think ‘a lot’ is an understatement,” Hank muttered. “But yes?”

“When I said it wasn’t the first time my kind had turned their backs on our nature, I was talking about them. I don’t know how many of them are out there, but I want to find out. I have an idea where some of them might be in the city,” he knew of Markus’ human adoptive father, where Markus had surely gone with North, “and you might be able to help me with some of the rest.” Kara, Echo, Josh, and all the others. 

“That’s admirable,” Hank said.

“I don’t know about admirable,” Connor shrugged into the mattress. “It’s just family.” 

“Family,” Hank hummed. The word settled on Connor, realizing that—- now that they had moved on past the demon conversation, even if it wouldn’t really be over that easily— they had other things to worry about. The same thing seemed to be on Hank’s mind. “I’m kinda old to have another kid,” he said. Though his tone was light, contemplative, Connor winced. 

“I thought about that. I wasn’t sure you’d want to… start over,” Connor said, though he wasn’t sure that was the right way to phrase it. “Sorry I can’t… guarantee it’ll be human, either.” 

Hank hummed again, and then reached out to take Connor’s hand in his own beneath the covers. “That doesn’t matter,” Hank tried to say, but Connor shook his head. 

“It does. You know it does,” Connor said. He knew the way that Hank looked at him when he saw Connor’s demonic form. Hank couldn’t react that way and say that it didn’t.

“Okay, okay, it does matter, but…” he squeezed Connor’s hand, “if they’re anything like you, even if they are a demon, we’ll love them anyway.” Connor felt Hank’s other hand brush against his hair. “Connor, how do _ you _ feel about this?”

Connor frowned, “I just told you—”

Hank looked at him gently, as if he might break. “No, you haven’t. You’ve been so worried about me that you haven’t said how _ you _ feel.” He was quiet, and then spoke again. “Do you even want this?”

Connor found himself curling in on himself, but not letting go of Hank’s hand. Though Connor was quiet, Hank didn’t push as he thought about it. “I… do,” he said, and then nodded with more confidence. “I love you, but I suppose… I just never thought about it,” he admitted. It hadn’t felt like something that would ever be a part of his life, not in the way it was for humans. “But I, uh, do. Want this. With you.” 

Hank, still tethered to Connor, nodded. He didn’t seem particularly worried, which put Connor more at ease. No matter the tragic loss Hank had faced, he had been— and was— a father. He knew what he was doing, even if Connor didn’t. “I’m worried about it,” Connor admitted. “I didn’t exactly have a normal childhood, Hank. I was raised by Amanda, one of the demons under my father, after our mother died. She _ was _ our mother, but she was a demon. We grew up knowing what we could become, expecting it. Meanwhile…” Connor sighed, “my brother, Markus, had been raised by a human who knew nothing of us. When he came of age, he felt lost. And besides… I’m a demon, what the Hell do I know about having kids?”

Beside him, Hank chuckled. “No one knows anything about raising kids, sweetheart. I don’t know anything about raising kids.” 

Connor hummed. “I love you.” _ Thank you for being like this. _

He hadn’t been fishing, but Hank spoke anyway. “I love you too.” 

Another wash of light filled the room, as Hank brushed another strand from Connor’s face. Connor leaned in, then, pressing his mouth to Hank’s. The kiss was hot and hungry, in a different way than Connor usually felt it. He wondered, as he pushed Hank back onto the mattress to climb on top of him, if this was how humans felt it all the time. When the kiss broke to allow them to breathe, Hank held him back. 

“Connor,” Hank groaned, “Nines is—”

“Nines won’t mind,” Connor purred, diving down to press his mouth, open, hot, and hungry into Hank’s. He wiggled his body on Hank’s, feeling the growing lust in the other man, and then _ feeling _ it. 

“I don’t want to hear, ‘Nines won’t mind,’ I want to hear, ‘Nines is asleep, and also isn’t a lust demon who can tell when his brother is fucking someone in the next room.’”

“I can’t help you with that one,” Connor laughed, throatily. “We can stop if you want.” 

“_No_,” Hank swore. But he did bring his hands to Connor’s face, his hands ghosting down to Connor’s bare chest. Hank seemed hesitant, and though Connor could feel his desire strongly, not wavering, he knew there was something else Hank wanted. He opened his mouth to ask what it was Hank wanted— because he _ had _promised he would try not to read Hank’s desires as much anymore— when Hank spoke. “Can I see— your other form?” 

Connor stilled. No one had ever _ wanted _ to see it before. It was a vestige of his demonic self, something that instilled fear in the night, not lust, like this form. And Hank had reacted badly when he’d forced the man to look at the form before. 

“Hey,” Hank said, his hand releasing Connor’s to cup his face. “You don’t have to.” 

“I— you really wanna see it?” Connor spilled out. “You actually want to fuck me like that?” 

“Yeah,” Hank said, his voice cracking as his face went red at the admission. 

“But you didn’t like it before,” Connor said, sitting back onto Hank’s hips. He tried not to sound like he was pouting, but he knew he was. He felt Hank’s hands drop from his body, and then as they landed on his hips, the strong fingers pressing into his back. 

“I’m sorry,” Hank said with a sigh. “Can’t help how I reacted before, but I love you and wanna make it up to you.” 

“Make it up to me?” Connor said, watching Hank, who winked. Connor knew what he meant, and could feel Hank’s skin heating up where he was touching him. Connor looked down at Hank, and holding onto Hank’s shoulders, Connor felt his human skin leave him. Under him, Hank gasped, and though he barely made a noise, Connor could feel his lover’s breath hitch. 

Connor tried not to feel so selfconscious, he’d been with Hank a hundred times, but this was a different kind of vulnerable. Hank’s thumbs brushed against his skin. “I don’t know what I expected your skin to feel like, but you are… you’re stunning like this,” Hank murmured, as Connor’s whip-thin tail rose over his shoulder, the pointed tail flicking. He shifted on Hank’s boxer-clad hips, completely naked like this, his cunt rubbing against Hank’s clothed cock. “Your skin is softer than it usually is, like a velvet marble. And so much colder.” 

“You don’t have to lie,” Connor said, rubbing against him. Hank’s hands pressed bruising fingers into his now-white hips. He wasn’t sure why Hank wanted to fuck him like this, no one else ever had. He knew some of the other demons fucked each other in this form, but he’d never been one of them.

Hank groaned, “And _ you _ don’t have to mistrust everything I say.” His hands released from Connor’s hips, reaching up to his face. Connor resisted the urge to pull back, to hide away from Hank. Hank’s hand reached up to trace the pointed shell of his ear, making Connor shudder. The hand traced up past his ear, to touch the base of Connor’s horns. Connor couldn’t feel it as Hank traced up the short, curved horns with a reverence, but he could feel the pressure. Connor couldn’t help but press his face into Hank’s hands, his skin unusually sensitive and touch-starved. 

The hands traced across the rest of his body, hairless and firm like marble. They settled low on his hips, touching between Connor’s thighs, the only place on him that had a touch of pink left. 

“Where do your clothes go when you’re like this?” Hank murmured as he thumbed against Connor’s clit, slow and rhythmic. 

“Not sure,” Connor said, his voice hitching. “The void, probably.”

He could feel himself growing wetter under the attention Hank was giving him, and for a moment, it was almost too much. He wrapped his tail around Hank’s wrist, stilling him. Hank, to his credit, only looked mildly surprised when he looked up at Connor. 

“You really don’t mind me like this?” Connor asked. 

The answer came in the form of Hank sitting up, pulling Connor further onto his lap, and biting the shell of his ear. Connor cried out as something hot and heavy settled in his gut. He felt Hank’s hand on the back of his neck as he flipped them, Connor on his back on the mattress. And then Hank was lifting his hips, settling a pillow there under his hips. 

Hank settled between his thighs, and though Connor couldn’t see all of Hank, he could see the self-satisfied smirk on his face. He felt the cool air of the room as Hank thumbed the lips of his cunt apart, and then— Hank’s tongue on him. Connor moaned, his hand shooting down to sink into Hank’s hair as his tongue laved against Connor’s sopping cunt. “Hank, fuck, your fingers—”

“Impatient,” Hank said, lips rumbling against Connor, whiskers tickling Connor’s inner thighs. Instead of giving Connor what he wanted, he continued lavishing Connor’s wet hole with his tongue. “You taste good like this Connor,” he hummed. 

“Hank,” Connor gasped as Hank sucked his clit in his mouth, teasing it with the tip of his tongue. Connor’s cunt clenched around nothing, looking for purchase that wasn’t there. 

He felt Hank chuckling against him, pausing for a moment. “Do you think you deserve my fingers?” 

“Yes,” Connor hissed. Hank chuckled again, and then leaned forward to flick his tongue against his clit again, teasing. Then, Connor felt the tip of Hank’s fingers, the ones spreading him apart and showing off his pink hole to Hank, pressing into him. “Finally,” he hissed, and then, as if to show him his place, Hank thrust his finger in all of the way, making Connor gasp. “Yes, Hank—” 

“Like that, huh?” Hank said, meeting Connor’s eyes over the crest of his hips, and descended on Connor, sucking him as he thrust into him with the single singer. Soon, a second joined the first, and Hank was curling his fingers upwards, pressing against Connor’s pelvis. 

“Hank, yes, there—” Connor gasped, almost trembling, bracketing Hank’s head with his thighs. 

Hank chuckled, pressing into him again, a wicked look in his eye. “I know how to fuck you, Connor.” 

“Then do it,” Connor hissed out. Hank began to lick him open in earnest, and soon, with the combination of his tongue and fingers, Connor was coming with a shout, hand still in Hank’s hair. Hank didn’t stop there, taking his time to pull his fingers out, still sucking on Connor’s clit. Connor grew impatient, pulling Hank up by his hair until Connor’s thighs were bracketing Hank’s. He could feel the bob of Hank’s clothed erection against him as he smashed their mouths together. 

He could taste himself on Hank, mouths open and wet against each other, could feel himself in the wetness in his beard as Connor threaded his fingers in it. He practically purred against Hank’s mouth, “Fuck me.” 

As Hank groaned, Connor slipped his tail into the waistband of Hank’s boxers, the pointed tail hooking on the side and tugging them down. Hank broke apart from the kiss to growl, “Cut it out, you goddamn imp.” 

Connor smiled sharply against Hank, his tail snaking around the man’s cock, tugging on him. “Make me,” he grinned. 

Instead of dignifying that with a response, Hank took Connor’s hips in hand, and flipped him over, the tail loosening on his cock but not completely releasing it. He pulled Connor up against him, his cock brushing up against Connor’s slick entrance. He rubbed himself against it, slicking his cock, but not quite breaching him. Connor whined, growing impatient, and tried to tug Hank forward by his cock, but Hank wasn’t having it. 

He leaned forward, stomach pressing against Connor’s back, as he whispered in the pointed shell of Connor’s ear, “Nuh-uh. Gotta ask for it, baby.” 

Connor groaned, his tail unfurling around Hank’s cock, and instead wrapping around his waist. “Fuck me, Hank, please—” and with that, Hank leaned back and thrust forward, sinking into Connor fully in one thrust. Connor felt his cunt clench around the man, sensitive from his first orgasm earlier. 

Hank gripped Connor’s hip with one hand, the marble-white flesh going even whiter under the grip, and the other— the other closed around one of Connor’s horns, pulling his head back, exposing his throat to Hank. “Fuck, I’m gonna have to hold onto these next time you suck me off,” Hank said as he thrust into Connor. Connor nearly came then, shuddering, his cunt fluttering around Hank’s cock. 

With one hand propping himself up on the mattress, Connor’s other hand rubbing at his clit, Connor wasn’t far off from coming. “I’m close, Hank. C’mon, fuck me harder,” Connor urged, thrusting his hips back to met Hank’s. With one well-placed thrust, Connor was coming again on Hank’s cock. 

His whole body shuddered, but it didn’t stop him from continuing to thrust his hips back to meet Hank’s thrusts. Within another dozen strokes, Hank was coming in him, filling his passage with Hank’s hot come. Hank held them close together as he finished inside him, only pulling apart to kiss him when he was well and truly finished, his come dripping down Connor’s thighs. 

Connor collapsed himself on the bed, rolling off of Hank’s side as Hank dropped down there. Hank reached for him, pulling Connor into another bruising kiss. Connor could still taste himself on Hank. “Your jaw is going to be sore tomorrow,” Connor murmured against him. 

“You’re worth it,” Hank said. As Connor kissed him, his eyes closed, his human skin overtook him again. When Hank’s hand brushed against his hair, his eyes opened, slightly startled. His hand reached to trace where Connor’s horns had been, just a moment before. “You don’t have to do that,” Hank said. 

“You probably wouldn’t appreciate being poked in the eye in the middle of the night,” Connor hummed. 

“That’s fair,” Hank said, pulling Connor closer to him to bury his face in Connor’s hair. He reached between them, pressing his hand into Connor’s taut stomach. It wouldn’t be like that for much longer, and Connor felt himself growing excited with the thought of it. Laying together, Connor thought things would be alright. 

**Author's Note:**

> I sorta wrote an outline for a short Reed900 companion piece but I CANNOT promise I'll ever write it bc that would involve writing more porn and I can stand to write one (1) porn scene per 6 months and this has two in it. 
> 
> Anyway [this is what I imagined](https://www.artstation.com/totodost/store/1Byd/demons-classical-sculpture) Connor and the other demons to look like in their other forms, but with like a pointy tail like Lucy from Disenchanted.


End file.
